


We Like It Like That

by Rebldomakr



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex, yes ANOTHER drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Hopefully, we can all blame the Upside Down for Will Byers for being so fucked up.





	We Like It Like That

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed. expect the worst.

Will wraps his lips around the back tip of his pen. Music spits out of his small radio, something harder and darker than what his brother listens to. He’s trying to form himself into _who_ he _is_. That’s what high school is all about, right? So is homework and extracurricular activities like clubs, sports, and other organizations that are _supposed_ to prepare someone for success later in life. He doesn’t think too much on the future, though. He has a song that people say inspired a California serial killer playing and he’s trying not to think about gruesome rape, because he’s trying to use formulas he was _trying_ to memorize on a sheet of word problems.

He hates word problems. It’s incredibly hard to focus on the numbers when they are wrapped in a story and some stupid real-world situation that’s supposed to be solved with Algebra. Will spent six minutes, at the minimum, thinking someone breaking into his room at night and fucking him awake with a knife to his throat – when he was supposed to be trying to do his homework. It would probably help if he changed the tape in his radio. Something he didn’t make with the help of Billy Hargrove and people, friends of Billy’s, who probably belong in prison. Will needs to do math, not fantasize about a dick pushing itself into someplace it didn’t have permission to be in.

He has a cardboard box in his closet. It’s full of newspapers, which are full of photographs and minimally-detailed tales of _true_ horror. Will wants to pull it out and pull himself into his own world of _wonder_. He can’t though. He has homework to do. It’s due tomorrow. High school is harder than middle school. Less time in the arcade and planning campaigns because his friends are busy, and so is he. They _are_ busier than him because Will’s mom is overprotective, he doesn’t like sports, and he likes how it feels to sit on Billy Hargrove’s lap. He likes how it feels with fingers in his mouth, too, and his throat still burning from inhaling smoke, preferably with semen still stuck inside of him because he was fucked for over an hour with a dick bigger than his might ever be.

Distractions are constant.  Will decides to pull out his tape. He puts on the radio. David Bowie’s voice greets him. It’s a good thing, he thinks. He wasn’t going to finish his homework any other way, probably. With lighter music in the background, he does manage to finish his homework. He shoves it into his folder, which he shoves into his backpack.

Someone knocks on his door when Will’s about to put his tape back in. He pauses. “Yeah?” He yells. He hopes it gets through his door enough to be correctly heard.

“Will?” His mother’s voice wriggles its way through wood. “Are you going out tonight?”

His mom is awfully understanding whenever he gets picked up by Billy Hargrove. Occasionally, he wonders what she thinks. He tries not to think about her, though, because normally when that pops into his head he’s trying to focus on Billy’s dick. “Probably not!”

“I’ll just made enough for Billy to eat dinner with us!” His mom says.

Will puts his tape back in.

With the loud, semi-violent music playing, Will throws himself onto his bed. He lays his head on his pillow. He closes his eyes and throws himself into fantasies, memories, and _actual_ dreams he’s had. The things that fill up his head during the day, when he’s supposed to be doing other stuff. The type of other stuff that if anyone knew about they might send him off to the mental asylum. What sane person thinks about someone breaking into his room at night and waking him up by jamming a dick inside of him, with a knife held up to his throat to get his dick hard, or dreams about a monster’s tendrils shoving their way into his mouth, choking him, and wakes up from that dream with semen staining their underwear?

The fantasy that Will draws in his mind is based off a memory. The memory’s from the time Billy Hargrove had fucked him at night, against a tree with the smell of vodka coming from his mouth. Will had been fed tiny white pills that night, it was surprising he could even feel Billy’s dick pounding into him. He had woken up the next night with semen and blood staining his underwear. The fantasy is different.

He thinks about falling asleep somewhere, maybe a party, after drinking too much. Maybe he took something, a white or yellow pill or even both, that draws him into a dosed dizzy mind. He fell asleep on a couch and Billy finds him. Billy takes him upstairs, away from the crowd, into a bedroom. The door’s locked. Will would still be asleep, passed out on a bed. Billy would undress him completely, tossing his clothes into a pile. He’d find lotion somewhere, or he’d have something on him already, and finger Will open. Not enough to keep away from a lot of pain, but to keep Billy himself from bleeding. He’d be woken up with pain his ass, cum dripping out of him, and Billy getting dressed. Billy would tell him, “Maybe next time, you’ll be awake.” Before leaving the bedroom, laughing.

Will falls asleep, mind stocked full of what he thinks of a good time. He dreams about the monster again.

**Author's Note:**

> I love it when Will is all fucked-up-in-the-head. I love it even more when Billy's right down there with him.


End file.
